A Dead Man's Requirements
by CrayonQueen18
Summary: Sirius falls through the veil and finds himself in an area of what he thinks is limbo. His only companions are the many treasures he finds there and a mysterious disembodied voice. Rated T for views expressed by characters. A/U
1. Chapter 1

A flash of red and a something like fabric fingers tickled his neck as ghostly velvet hands pulled him back. A slur of beautiful colors flew before his eyes. Purples, oranges, greens, reds and blues all swam before Sirius's eyes, illuminating Harry and Remus, the last two faces he saw before he fell. He smiled, stretching his arm out, and then the colors faded. They all blurred together the way dye ran in a fountain all fell to black. The last sound he heard was Harry's agonized cry for him and Bellatrix Lestrange's demonic cackle of sweet success.

Sirius squirmed. He had to get to Harry. But he didn't move. He couldn't speak. And as if he was falling asleep, Sirius went backwards, all his senses leaving him.

Silence. Never before had silence sounded so loud, ringing in his ears.

Sirius didn't know how much time had trekked on between then and now. He didn't know if he could move. He didn't want to try. He opened his eyes to a room that seemed darker than behind his own eyelids.

There was a disturbance in the still air beside him and he could still hear the screams of Harry above him, crying his name.

Sirius sat up quickly, feeling a pain sear to life on the back of his head where he had landed on it. He swayed momentarily, one of his arms feeling very stiff, the rest of his body numb and relaxed, as if every muscle in his body had taken an anesthetic.

He groaned and stretched. "I wish I could see where I was…" he mumbled to himself. After all, there was no one for him to speak to. His voice only rebounded back at him, bouncing around the darkened room wildly.

He deemed it a lost cause and went to lie back down, but was forced into his seated position once more.

"Oh, but you can…" A voice spoke to him from some unknown place in the room.

"Hello?" Sirius asked, his voice cracking a bit. "Who's there? Where am I?" His throat was dry and it hurt to speak.

"You have to really want to see where you are."

"But I _do_ really want to see where I am…" Sirius said slowly, still trying to wrap his brain around what exactly it was that was happening.

"Then prove it. You have to really believe it."

Sirius closed his eyes and thought _I really need to see where I am_ as many times as he could. Sweat started to bead down his brow.

"It takes a little while to get used to that," the voice said, almost like a song. "Once you get used to it, you'll be able to get whatever you want."

"Whatever I want?" Sirius asked, still concentrating on how much he wanted to see where he was.

"Whatever you want," the voice said a lilt hiding under the giggle in it. "Look, sir."

Sirius opened his eyes to see a warehouse-like room. There were so many things in there. Whole libraries of books, busts of people Sirius didn't know, a weird black filing cabinet, papers, pictures, and there was even a bloody axe inches from where he sat. He squirmed away from it, tripping over a gaudy candelabrum and crashing into a suit of armor.

The voice laughed. "Be careful."

"Thanks for the warning. What is this place, anyways?"

The voice sighed dreamily. "Isn't it just beautiful?"

"Well, that wasn't the word I was looking for… You didn't answer my question, woman! What is this place?" Sirius said, assuming the voice had a gender.

"I don't really know." It answered softly after a moment's pause.

"Well, whatever it is, it's filled a boat load of shit…" he said, kicking a bowl of soup and half-eaten crackers out of his way.

"One man's trash is another man's treasure," the voice recited as if her mouth was full of sky.

"Yeah, that's different," Sirius pointed. "If this junk was someone else's treasure, don't you think someone would claim it already?"

"I hadn't finished," the voice continued. "And one man's treasure is another man's trash. This is where all that left over trash goes I guess." Sirius could hear the voice shrug.

Sirius continued looking around, examining random artifacts he found. "So," Sirius said, throwing the broken clock he was looking at over his shoulder. "What does a guy have to do to get a drink around here?" He asked to voice, wherever she may have been.

"Just want one."

Sirius concentrated hard on his dry throat and the cool liquid he wanted to go down it. A goblet appeared to his right, filled to the brim in nice, cool liquid. Sirius, with urging from the voice put the goblet to his lips and drank.

"Water?" he asked, puzzled, looking at the goblet. "I finish fighting Death Eaters and _this_ is what I get?"

"Well," the voice said a little sternly, but still maintaining her distant, dreamy mystique. "This place knows what you need _and_ want. You may have wanted something else, but you got what you needed. This is a clever little place."

"Clever…" Sirius said, chugging more water. He was feeling a little better now, but his head was still sore and he wanted to be with Harry, fighting.

"So how did you get here?" The voice asked conversationally.

Sirius shrugged. "I…" he felt slightly ashamed now. "I was killed by curtains."

The voice gasped. "The Department of Mysteries?" If the voice had hands, Sirius was sure she would be clasping them over her invisible mouth.

"Yeah. You know, I always imagined I'd make a more theatrical exit… You've heard of it?"

"Of course I have."

"How did you get here?" Sirius asked back, watching his glass automatically fill itself back up.

"Like so many of us do, I died."

"You mean to tell me that you once had a body?"

"What do you mean 'had'?" The voice asked. "I still have my body it's a matter of getting back that's my problem."

"Getting back where?"

"To my family, of course!" The voice still seemed like a disembodied force, despite Sirius's knowledge of her body. It still seemed odd to think the voice had a body _and_ family.

"Oh. Sorry. You must miss them."

"Yes. I do, especially my little daughter."

"Merlin…" Sirius said, feeling worse by the second. "That's terrible. I'm sorry."

"Yes. It is terrible I suppose. But one day I'll see her again. I hope that day doesn't come soon, though. But here I will be if she needs and I'll welcome her with open arms the day she enters this place."

"Yeah," Sirius said, setting his goblet down and taking a seat on a nearby stool. "If you believe in that sort of thing."

"You mean you don't?"

"You know," Sirius said, with a sigh, "I did. And then I died and came here. I always thought I'd see my friends again when I died. But…" he looked around. "They aren't here. There's nothing her but a bloody axe, books and a bunch of junk."

Sirius knew that the voice, though he couldn't see it was shaking its head. "They aren't supposed to be here."

"Then where are they?"

"Where they belong."

"Which is where?"

"Well, were they good people?"

"They were very good people, some of the best I knew."

"Then they're in Heaven."

"Then is this Hell?" Sirius was scared to know the answer.

"I'd imagine not. Hell would be a lot worse than a storage bin that gave you whatever you wanted, don't you think?"

"Limbo, then?"

"From what I've figured out, I believe where you and I are is a place between here and there."

"That," Sirius said, taking another sip of water, "was a very profound statement in which you told me absolutely nothing. Thank you." He said sarcastically.

"Then you'll have to figure it out for yourself, won't you?" The voice laughed jubilantly again.

"If you have a body, where are you?" but there was no answer coming back to him. "Hello?"

Nothing. Silence met his awaiting ears. It crept eerily into all five of his senses, sending shivers up and down his spine. He shook them off; still stunned by everything that had happened recently. The Department of Mysteries, the veil, this uncertain place… It all flashed before his eyes as he sat, amidst the junkyard of forgotten belongings like a helpless child. Only two memories of a similar, vulnerable feeling like this flooded his memory. He saw his self, several years back, sitting on a mountain of rubble, his best friends, James and Lily lying crushed and broken somewhere beneath the maze of brick and wood as a sleeping Harry, his head hot, adorning a new scar snuggled close into his chest. Tears streamed from Sirius's face and into Harry's soft, messy hair. Sirius's arms ached with longing to hold Harry, or even just to see him. He saw himself next, sitting, in a far, dark, and dank corner in a cell in Azkaban prison, wringing his hands together with the remains of hope as he saw prisoners be released. What remained of his soul imagined a filling meal, the comfort of his own bed and the warm embrace of friends he loved. He could only imagine how much therapy he would need when he got out, if he got out.

It was when Sirius awoke that he even realized he was sleeping. He sat up with a start, the room sighing to live at the recognition of it being in use once more.

The stalactites on the ceiling hung with loneliness in the dimly lit room. Despite there being no windows, sunlight seemed to beat through. Sirius missed sunlight. One day of being dead and sunlight had already gone from his memory, but at the same token, he had been in jail for twelve years before hand, so sunlight was a rare luxury.

He followed a particular beam's path, his eyes landing on something vast, big, and black.

"Hey, umm, voice lady?" Sirius called out, "What's this… thing?"

"I've hazarded a few guesses." She answered, her voice sounding from different directions in the oblong room.  
Sirius was glad to hear her voice, relieved that there was someone to talk to. "And what have you 'hazarded'?" he asked, unable to take his eyes from the odd trunk in front of him.

"I believe it's a portal."  
"A portal?" Sirius asked with skepticism. "To where?"

"The other side, of course!" the voice answered back as if she had just answered the most obvious thing in the world.

Sirius felt his feet move beneath him, his hand outstretched. If he was dead, he wanted to be where he belonged; with James and Lily. He didn't want to be in this room with half another person and a bloody axe. _At least I won't be bored…_ Sirius thought, catching sight of a yo-yo.

Sirius grasped the handle, slowly turning it within his palm. But before his eyes could see the inside of this… whatever it was, he was pushed to the side, his head hitting the concrete ground with quite a bit of force. "Ow! What was that?"

"I'm so sorry," the voice said, now definitely behind him. "But precautions must be taken."

"Precautions?" Sirius said, rubbing the large bump that was forming on his head. "That really hurt, you know."

"Yes, precautions." There was a small pause of thought before the voice continued. "You didn't hear it from me, but…" The woman dropped her voice for a moment, as if to check to see if the coast was clear. _Then who did I hear it from? We're the only ones here…_ Sirius thought, seconds before she continued. "I hear things, sir. Dreadful things. There was, as I feared, screaming from inside that cabinet. Yes, screaming. There has been chanting. These can't be good signs."

Sirius wanted to laugh at the woman's delusions. "Right. So ambushing me was to keep me away from a few monks with voice modulation problems?"

"I'm serious, sir."

"Serious," he said, cutting her off, "Believe me, I know 'serious', and that," he said fingering at the ornate detail on the black box, "was what I call just plain crazy."

"Go in there, and you'll die." The voice was shaking and he could envision it dripping salty tears made from foggy nothingness.

"Die? I thought that was why I was here in the first place."

"Oh, no, sir." She said, "You can get out of here, we all can. You just need to find a door..."

But Sirius wasn't listening to the woman's jumbled beliefs. He busied himself with the odd patterns on the black wood, and after finding it tedious went on to play with the poor abandoned yo-yo.

He knew he couldn't possibly be dead. Who ever heard of death by curtains? He knew he had to get out, but how he would go about doing that was beyond his wildest dreams.

He wished his companion would show herself. He wished she was more than just a voice of comfort.

Sirius had to have a seat. Death was a rather large thing to wrap your mind around. Sirius was starting to get itchy. He began to wonder if maybe that was a side effect from dying by draperies. But he figured constant itchiness was better than constant pain. _Yes_, he concluded, death _would take a bit of getting used to_. That was, until he realized he was only itchy because he was sitting blindly on an ant farm someone had stuck in the Room of Random Shit.

He managed to get the ants off just in time to hear his stomach growl. Sirius was a little shocked that a dead man could still eat.

"If your hungry," the voice started, making Sirius jump, "all you have to do it…"

"I know, I know. All I have to do is think about how much I want food. I know the drill now."

_Merlin, I'm hungry. I want food… I want food… I need food… I want and need food… _he repeated this mantra over and over again until a steaming bowl appeared in his lap.

_That's great and all,_ Sirius thought, _but can't I get a spoon, too? _And so, one appeared in his right hand, as if an invisible maid was mothering him. Egg drop soup never tasted so good. It ran down his throat, the hot broth blistering his insides, warming them immensely. The mushrooms and eggs satisfied his stomach enough to cease its roaring. It now hummed with satiated digestion. "Thank you," he said out loud, laying down on his back, staring up at the ceiling he had somehow fallen through. "You know," he said to the voice, wherever she may've been. "There was so much stuff that I hadn't done. Being in jail for twelve years means you can't do much with your life, you know."

"Yes, I'd suppose not. Why were you in jail?"

"Wrongly accused by the wrong people of a crime I didn't commit."

"Well that's not good," she said, that air of bliss still encompassing each vowel.

"Yeah. And the rat that did do it got away."

"There's still no need for name calling."

"No, he's literally a rat…"

"Oh." It seemed odd to Sirius that the woman appeared to believe every word he said.

"So," Sirius said, conversationally, "you said you had a daughter. What's she like?"

"She was, or is, the most amazing child, or young woman, now come to think of it, that anyone could ever meet. She was bright and curious, she always telling stories and smiling. She was a rather outgoing young girl, a trait she gets from her father. She was also inquisitive, always asking questions about everything, but she always accepted your answer. She was amazing." For once, the woman's dreamy voice matched her words perfectly, as if she was reliving every memory she had with her. "What about you? Do you have any children?"

"No," Sirius snorted, "not that I know of. That was a joke, you can laugh. No, I don't have any kids. I have a godson, Harry who I love to, well, death." Sirius almost laughed at accidental joke, but stopped himself when he looked at the irony, "He's a great young man, just like his father. He's smart, athletic and kind, but has a certain disregard for the rules, which I. of course, applaud him on. I… I wonder how he's doing. I wonder _what_ he's doing. Hey, lady?" Sirius asked, his eyes glancing around from his position on the floor. "Is there a time difference between here and…" Sirius made a circular motion with his hands, signaling the whole world, "and there?"

"I'd imagine not." The voice said, being not as helpful as Sirius would've liked, again. "What was it you had wanted to do?"

"Well I don't know. There was this woman I was in love with. I always wanted to marry her, but she probably couldn't give a rat's ass about me. I always wanted to have my own family, Harry and my house elf is all I got, and one of them hates me, so I really only have Harry. I always wanted more time with Remus. He's my best friend I regret every day that I didn't laugh with him. I wanted to go to Sweden. I hear it's rather nice over there. And I always wondered what would happen if you ate frozen yogurt in a sauna. I also wanted to take Harry to a Quidditch game, you know, be the father figure to him that he never had… Who am I kidding?" Sirius asked. "I can't even find the damned door. How am I supposed to do all of these things if I can't even get out of here to do them?"

"Sir," the voice said, "I think you found the door."


	2. Chapter 2

This chapter is a belated birthday present to one of my best friends, Justine, who, for some reason, can't get enough of this story. Much love to you, Justine. I hope you had a great birthday!!

***

The whole room moaned and groaned to life, the walls stretching, bored at the thought of opening again. Sirius felt his heart quicken, and found it awkward being dead and still have a heart beat.

Was this the doorway to Heaven? Sirius always imagined pearly white gates that shone with purity and glory. But, he supposed, "pearly gates" must look better on paper than "large, old warehouse door".

He heard singing, which he had expected to hear. But it wasn't the choir of harmonizing angels. It wasn't a harpist. It was more of a pitchy mumble that slurred around the place. Apparently, there was alcohol in heaven, copious amounts, for when the door opened, the strong scent of sherry hit his nostrils.

He heard zigzagging, inconsistent footfalls and was confused as to why God would send a drunken angel to greet him. He began to walk forward when he was pushed to the ground again. He sat up quickly enough to see long tresses of blonde whip around the corner. The voice had pushed him down once more.

"Do you enjoy shoving me to the ground? If so, could you do it with a little bit less frequency?"

"Shh!" the voice spat at him from behind a shelf. "Be quiet and stay low. We have a visitor."

"And I can't be seen by this visitor, why?"

"The dead shouldn't move amongst the living unless called to."

"And how will I know when that is?"

"Oh, you'll know. Believe me." And somehow, Sirius did.

"Who… who's there?" a slurring, whimsical voice said.

Sirius remained silent, unmoving and the visitor; obviously a drunk, crazy female shook it off, blaming it on "too much sherry for the day," and continued her pitchy moan of a song. The clinking of bottles, more inebriated footsteps and the closing of the door, and then silence swept the room. Sirius watched, saddened by the sight of the door shrinking into oblivion.

"I take it the door wasn't for you?"

An idea struck Sirius. Like the barrier at King's Cross, all he had to do was run at the wall and he would go to the other side. If the living could do it, why not the dead?

Sirius got into position. "I wouldn't do that if I were you…" the voice said.

Disregarding the voice's warning, Sirius counted to three and with all of his might, pumped his legs until he felt the earth beneath him move and the wall came closer to his face.

Sirius couldn't recall much of what happened next, except for the fact he was still in the same room, staring at a giant harp and a bust. Sirius was unaware of much except that he wasn't where he had planned, and he had the world's largest headache. He didn't know what time it was.

How could the deceased get a concussion?

He heard rustling around him, much like the rustling he heard when he first arrived here. He saw the shadow of a hunched over woman, sewing rhythmically to the soft, motherly lullaby she sang. He sat up and the shadow looked up from her sewing, the lullaby dying in the embers of sound. "Good morning, sleeping beauty. How's your head?"

"What happened?"

"Most would say that running into a wall was not your greatest stroke of brilliance." The voice laughed with jubilancy once more.

"Yeah, go ahead and laugh." Sirius said, rubbing his eyes and his head simultaneously. "I'm sure you've done that before."

"No, never. Not once."

"Why? Have you never tried in fear of failing, or do you just not want to get out?"

"Neither. I just know that I'll know when it's my time to leave this place and go where I belong."

Sirius rolled his eyes, still unable to take her word as far as her beliefs went.

"So," Sirius asked, finally standing, able to walk around, "are you ever going to show yourself, or am I just to assume you don't exist and that I'm going crazy?"

"Oh... You're not crazy." she said, thinking, "You'll see me sometime. I'm just not one to just show myself immediately."

"When does it stop being immediately?"

"When I say so," the voice said, slightly irritated, but not losing her pensive, dream-like tonal quality.

"What? Is your face mangled or something? Because I won't judge, I promise. I mean, I saw the Auror Mad-eye Moody on a regular basis."

"Auror?" The woman said with a verbal cringe, "Don't get me started on Aurors."

"Okay, then I won't…" Sirius changed subject. "Earlier, when you said we can't interact with the living, and what have you, how did you know?"

The voice gave a shuddering, sad sigh. "I've been in here for almost seven years. And I was once like you, trying to get out, making sad and feeble attempts at it, too. I learned the hard way."

"When? When did this happen? How?" Sirius asked. Seven years was a long time to be alone.

"Recently. I… I…" The voice trailed off, choking on tears. "My daughter was in here and I couldn't touch her. I couldn't hug her and tell her how much I have missed her, how proud I was of her. When I tried, a defensive spell was casted my way. I didn't want to die again so I had to watch my daughter live from a distance. She… she's a rather talented young witch." Sirius could hear the emotional toll that this had on the woman as he watched the voice's shadow on the wall shaking with tears, getting smaller with each heaving sigh. "If… If you'll excuse me." And the voice disappeared once more, shadow and all not to be seen again for another week or so. It was a long week in which Sirius had read through a pile of books and papers, seeing a few familiar names, mainly those of students with whom he attended school. He grew bored with the yo-yo he found and shadow puppets were hardly a way of entertainment. Finally, by the eighth day, he cried out in the anguish of boredom, "I'm bored as hell! What's there to do?" He knew how immature he sounded, much like a small child tired of furniture shopping, but he couldn't help himself. Once boredom crept into the cracks of your soul, it grew there until insanity started.

"Then do something to fix that!" the voice said, echoing off the walls with her usual mystique.

Sirius's heart lurched with surprise. "Is this going to be a regular thing with you? Sneaking up on people! I'm already half dead, don't scare me half to death again!"

The voice laughed, but Sirius was not finding it comical. "You haven't ever had anyone in here with you, have you?"

"Oh I have. They've all left and gone where they need to be. I still to this day can't figure out how they did it. But anyway, none of them have been quite as humorous as you."

"Well thank you." He said with a bow the voice couldn't see. "I try to please."

"I wonder," the voice said after her giggle subsided, "if maybe you try too hard."

"Of course not!" Sirius said after a moment of thought, but knew the voice was possibly correct. Mentally, he put it on his list of things to improve on when and if he ever got out of this strange and beneficial building.

There was more rustling from somewhere in the room, and the candle, the only source of their light at that moment in time gutted out, leaving the room in a thick gloom, the darkness so opaque that Sirius's eyes had trouble adjusting and he couldn't quite tell if his eyelids had remained open or if they fluttered close, anticipating sleep.

Boredom wasn't a pleasant emotion to humans. But to animals, boredom was a way a life, so much that animals didn't know quite what boredom was to begin with. Boredom to them was simply that neutral feeling you get when emotions haven't quite deposited in your mind for the day.

There were also the other feelings, the ones much like a human being's, such as happiness and pain, sorrow and anger, betrayal and shame. And then there was the more complex emotion of excitement, that sheer happiness, love and craziness. It was much like the feeling a human were to get after eating a jar of pure, high quality sugar. It would be a lie to say that this feeling was a rarity in the animal world, but it was to a non-domesticated dog that had spent a large amount of his life behind bars, cooped up and locked away from the rest of the world.

So Sirius crouched, sprouting a tail and fur, becoming a dog. He was comfortable now, unable to feel the torture of tedium as it stabbed him with hot knives and shouted nonsense in a monotonous growl. A dog, when faced with their equivalent of boredom did what came naturally, they slept. And so Sirius circled out a soft area and plopped down with satisfaction. His senses heightened, he closed his very well adjusted eyes on the junk that littered the room, every smell filtering into his wet, black nose, so vivid that even the bloody axe across the room made itself known with an irony scent. He slowly drifted to sleep, comfortable in this form. The last thing he heard was the voice as she continued her song.


	3. Chapter 3

Often, the door reappeared, and Sirius's heart experienced a transient high of excitement. It faded, though, making his heart shrink in disappointment as he heard the intoxicated slurring of a distant, butchered folk song, and the too familiar smell of sherry filled his nostrils.

He sighed, his shoulders slumping in displeasure. He had put his faith this room. It had provided for him, kept him alive, so to speak. The room had given him a disembodied friend, a confidant. This mysterious place had earned his respect, his trust. And yet, the room made a door materialize, only to fade away again, always tantalizing him, leading him on and deeper into insanity. It was a jail that drove its prisoners insane, but it was nothing like Azkaban. He was trapped here, physically as well as mentally, unable to leave. He was in a straightjacket filled with useless shit that constricted his every movement and his every thought. Trying to get out only made it worse. His ears rung and his head buzzed with the words of the voice, making his straightjacket feeling more maddening. He had to leave. He had to get out. He had to get to Harry, help him fight, finish his duties as godfather. He needed a second chance to make up for lost time, to spend every possible moment with Harry. His godson was in trouble, he could sense it somehow and he had to help him. He could still hear his calls for him, resounding in his mind, mixing cacophonously with the voice's distant tones.

_Harry… the baby boy he held in his arms. Harry… the child he should have watched grow up… Harry… the teenager he should have seen of to Hogwarts every year… Harry… the young man who was so much like his father that it brought proud, nostalgic tears to Sirius's eyes. And he hoped, with every fiber in his body that his godson was safe…_

The sun was shining brightly through the windows that led to nowhere, the light swallowing the whole darkness from the night before. The sunlight reflected off the bottles and remaining sherry droplets and made kaleidoscopic patterns that danced freely on the wall. But no matter how freely the danced, they, like Sirius, were contained only to this room and escaping wasn't feasible. But unlike Sirius, they were happy, unable to feel the constricted, refined feeling that this room trapped them in, like fireflies in glass jars. 

Sirius felt around him, unsure of what he was searching for. He was wet, drenched in his own sweat, his face salty with tears and all ten of his fingernails glared sparkly with crimson.

"You were talking in your sleep." It was the voice once more, and this time, Sirius knew exactly where she was. He was led to believe she was standing, visible in the corner. All he had to do was turn around and he would see her at last. But he didn't move. He was glued to his spot from the shock she inflicted on him with her sudden piercing of the thick sheet of silence. "Is Harry your godson?"

"I— Yeah… He is. Was—was I talking about Harry?"

The voice hummed a sound that replaced the verbal 'yes'. "You sounded worried about him, you were so nervous you chewed your nails until there was nothing left, I'm assuming. I've mended your wounds the best way I could without a wand.

"Harry sounds familiar, very brave from what I heard. You sounded very proud, but very, very, terribly concerned. Is Harry all right?"

"I—Yeah… No. I—I don't know." But Sirius got the impression that the voice wasn't listening to him anymore.

"He… He sounds familiar…" The voice was trailing off melodically, "So familiar…" She was so absorbed in her thoughts, her voice sounded trance-like.

"Familiar how?"

"My daughter knows him. They were here."

Sirius's heart was now on a rollercoaster ride. He was excited to know that Harry was here, in the same room as him at some point in time. He was disheartened knowing he had missed him. He was also disappointed when taking into consideration he was dead and here. If Harry was here, was Harry okay? And then his heart felt light once more when remembering the very much alive alcoholic that utilized this room to conceal her collection of sherry bottles. That must have meant Harry was alive as well; he just came in here to hide something, right? But why was the voice's daughter here?

"What," Sirius asked carefully, "what was he doing here?"

"I couldn't tell," she said, her voice much like that of a sleepwalker with logorrhea, "he was talking. Just talking. There was yelling, too. He spoke to my daughter kindly, as if she was an equal, a friend. I appreciated that. I like him."

"Yeah, yeah. He's a great kid. But was he okay?" Sirius said, ignoring the pain in his red fingertips as fresh coat of blood began to issue forth.

"I suspect so." She said.

Silence drifted once more, like falling snow over them, dusting them in a thick layer of soft whiteness. It was almost unbearably quiet. Once the silence was broken, Sirius didn't want to put it back together once more. So he broke it again, hoping the soft dusting of silence would melt away, leaving him in comfortable conversation and sound once more. He wanted, needed to know that all of his sense still worked.

"So, do you have a name?" He asked, the silence thawing away as he thought—and hoped—it would.

The voice laughed. "Every living thing on Earth has a name, Sirius."

Sirius was taken aback. "What? How did you--?"

"Know your name?" she finished for him. "Sirius, you talk in your sleep. When you hear that, you're bound to pick up on things."

"That's not fair. You know my name, but you've never told me yours. Don't tell me I have to guess, because that would be such a buzz kill right about now."

The voice laughed. "Loralee. That's my name; Loralee."

Sirius smiled. "That's beautiful," he said.

"Well, I'm glad you think so," the voice named Loralee responded.

They fell silent for a moment, but Sirius's stomach broke the quiet like a knife. He simply looked up at the ceiling and said. "I really need food."

Nothing happened.

"I really, _really _need food." Sirius begged, one hand holding his stomach silent.

Still, not even a crumb materialized.

From somewhere in the room, Loralee sighed. "It's no use, Sirius. There isn't anymore available food. It's all gone."

"What do you mean by 'available' food?"

"You're an animagus. You must be good at Transfiguration, are you not? You tell me."

Sirius thought about this. "Well," he started, searching the depth of his mind, "you can't conjure food…"

"Exactly!" Loralee responded happily, as if she was at Sirius's abilities.

"We'll then what are we supposed to do, then?"

Loralee, even in a time like this, managed to chuckle. Sirius, confused, heard rummaging and what sounded like a stone rolling away. He was immediately hit with the smell of Danishes and eggrolls. Sirius followed his nose, but saw no one where he was expecting Loralee to be. Instead, a passageway fell into his field of vision.

"Go on," Loralee encouraged, an invisible hand attached artfully to her words pushing Sirius forward. Down he walked, the longing for the food at the end of the tunnel being his driving force.

There were no steps. Just a steep slant downward, spider webs and dimly lighted torches met him on his descent into near darkness.

The heavenly scent seemed to grow stronger and stronger by each inch he walked.

At last, Sirius reached a dead end. But the aroma of awaiting Chinese food and wonderful desert was tantalizingly close. Sirius placed his forehead against the wooden door. "You were right, Loralee, it's no use."

"Come now," said Loralee in a singsong voice, "Things aren't always what they seem."

"What are you? A Ravenclaw?"

"And what's wrong with that?" Loralee's voice was now stiff and proud.

"Nothing," Sirius said, holding his hands up, squinting into the distance, looking for Loralee now instead of just hearing her. "The woman I loved back when I was younger was a Ravenclaw. I'm just saying; it explains a lot." Sirius turned back to the wall. "Things aren't always what they seem, you say…?" Sirius placed his hands on the wood, running them along its weathered surface. In doing this, he came across a peculiar engraving. "Runes?" He asked looking at them. "Loralee, I never took Ancient Runes."

But Loralee, as she so often did, only giggled once more. "Look closer. Things aren't always what they seem," She repeated encouragingly. Sirius was sure by this point that even Loralee wasn't even sure of what was going on. For all he knew, she could be unknowingly leading them into a trap.

But Sirius did as she told him. He squinted, rubbed off decades of dust, and cocked his head sideways. After staring at the odd carving, it came to Sirius. These weren't ruins at all, but an intricate design in the wood. In English, the words "Welcome, friend" were written, and were repeated in Latin. Below the elegant engraving was a year: 1849. And below the year were three tick marks.

"What does that mean?" Sirius asked the shadows beside him, which he assumed Loralee was hiding in. The wall was obviously very old, centuries even. And finding a way through it was going to be challenge implanted by some wise old man with knowledge that exceeded any living witch or wizard living; Sirius was sure of it.

"You figure it out." She said simply. "I believe in you." These were words Sirius hadn't wanted to hear, but had expected.

He clenched his fist, and rapped thrice on the beautiful carving. The rose that had been there bloomed to reveal the head of a lion that smiled up at him and bowed to them with a soft, throaty rumble. The sound of tumblers in a lock clicked cleanly into place and Sirius heard a door creak open. "That was it? No riddle? No odd, death-defying task? If only all things in life (or death) were this easy..." he said laughing, relived.

Sirius barged quickly through the door, light flooding the tunnel like water rushing into a gutter. He squinted his eyes as he emerged into it. The moment his eyes adjusted, he lowered the hand that shielded him.

Nothing could prepare him for what awaited him; a scared looking woman armed with a kitchen knife.

***

_**A/N: Dear readers, feel free to send me predictions in reviews and private messages. I encourage your involvement and interest in my stories. I will be selling thinking caps at the concession stand during intermission if you need any help with my guessing games ;). I hope you have enjoyed the latest installment of DMR, and I hope to hear from all of my lovely viewers. Much love to you all. Peace out, CrayonQueen.**_


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